


the sixteenth night's sky

by nagase (machogwapito)



Series: Advent Calendar 2015 [4]
Category: Arashi (Band), Japanese Actor RPF, Johnny's Entertainment, TOKIO
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M, really it's just tatsuya's guilty man pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8772556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machogwapito/pseuds/nagase
Summary: The agony of this fleeting tryst scorches this body of mine, o sinful one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2015.
> 
> Written for the [advent calendar project thing](http://kurokouchi.livejournal.com/6157.html) for [addierabudabu](http://addierabudabu.livejournal.com), who requested Yamano. My sweet, sweet TOKIO/Arashi OTP... I haven't written for these two in ages, and I feel a little bad that of all the things it could've turned out to be it became kind of dark, lmfao. I listened to [Izayoi no Sora](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_litmaGKlM) the whole time I wrote this, and the song title is where I got the drabble title from, too.
> 
> Additional notes: On the izayoi (sixteenth night of the month), the izayoizuki (the moon of that night) seems to "hesitate" in the twilight before rising into the sky.

Tatsuya could lie.

He could say this was the first and the only time, and he could say that he's never in his life tasted Satoshi's mouth, tasted his tongue, tasted the salt of his skin and the warmth of his heat. But Tatsuya found rather early into this entire spiel that there are two things he absolutely cannot do.

The first is pretend Satoshi is no-one to him.

The second is lie about having fallen for him.

It's an unforgivable thing, he knows. As his two children sleep happy and unknowing back in Tokyo, as a woman he swore he'd love forever sits in her living room watching late night television dramas, Tatsuya's fingers are entwined with a younger man's, his face pressed to a sweaty temple and words of love pouring from his throat. There is no universe where this is acceptable; he might as well be committing a crime. But the way Satoshi twists beneath him later--all supple flesh and lithe muscle written in white as the waning moon shines on him--is a sight that Tatsuya can never for the life of him let go of.

Satoshi's mouth is warm when Tatsuya's tongue dips into it, and they both taste like the same seafood fried rice.

It's unforgivable when he buries his face in Satoshi's neck, groaning promises as dancer's legs wrap tight around his waist. It's unforgivable when Satoshi's lips graze his forehead, breathless and awed and _Tatsuya_ written in the cracking decibels of his voice. As Tatsuya lifts his chin, though, both hands finding a place at either side of Satoshi's head, looking down at him and the want that touches every corner of his face tells him that he'd rather die than lose the beautiful boy beneath him.

Nobody fits him like Satoshi does; moves against him like Satoshi does. Nobody can say his name in the sweet lullaby Satoshi does: _Ta-tsu-ya_ in melodies as his jaw drops and his lips purse and his mouth opens again. This boy who loves fishing, this boy who loves the sea, this boy who makes art with his fingertips and masterpieces with his throat--Tatsuya has fallen irreversibly, irreparably, and irresponsibly.

But that doesn't matter for now, he tells himself. It doesn't matter as his hips swing and Satoshi's back arches, a cry escaping him and piercing the air around them. It doesn't matter as blunt nails dig into his back and drag, a usually so-quiet voice pitching higher in gasps of _there, right there!_. Tatsuya watches Satoshi come undone, watches his expressions change like cards shuffling in the hands of a talented dealer, and he feels more than sees the way he's finally had enough--feels the sudden choking sensation around him and the heat that explodes between both their bellies.

Tatsuya, too, feels like he's died, and something like a gasp of completion leaves Satoshi's lips when he's rendered full of liquid heat.

His arms wrap around a spare waist, pulling Satoshi to him amidst their sweating and the clipped quality to their exhausted breaths. Outside the moon is waning, watching, and Tatsuya sees it reflected ever so slightly in the dark, dark pools of Satoshi's eyes as he asks:

"When are you going to tell her?"

Tatsuya's eyes close, lips touching a damp forehead.

"I don't know."


End file.
